Trials
by KungPowKitty
Summary: The Underminer was three years ago, and the Incredibles' lives are very, very hectic. How hectic? Well, you'll just have to read and find out, won't you? ... Told you I'd write a sequel... eventually
1. Three years past

-1**Yello, folksies! I'm back, and I have no idea what I'm doing! Let me first and foremost apologize. Not because I've been lazy. But because, instead of working on this, I've been working diligently on a Lion King fan-fiction! Yay! (watches many faces become very angry-looking) Okay, so I am sorry, and I'm going to force myself to work on this. I just need y'all to be patient.**

**This, if you didn't know, is the sequel to my first Incredibles fan fiction called "Tribulations." So if you haven't read that one yet, GOOD FOR YOU, I DON'T CARE, IT SUCKED! Well, except for that final battle, I'm rather proud of that. However, I'm going to be using some of the characters from that story in this one and whatever, so it might be a good idea to skim through that story. But anyways! Let's get started!**

"Please, Dean! Please!" Violet begged. "I need the cash!" It had been about three years since the downfall of the Underminer, and obviously a lot of things had happened during that time period. For starters, Violet was seventeen going on eighteen in a few months, and Dash had turned fourteen during the last summer. And, of course, Jack-Jack was four. Yes, the Parr family had just about survived his toddler years, and let me tell you, it hadn't been pretty.

Dean rolled out from under the car he was working on. The scruffy, black-haired thirty year old still had a youthful presence to him. "No."

"C'mon Dean! I'd be great, and you know it!"

"Yeah, Dean," Dash said from the passenger seat of a car nearby, the window rolled down as he flipped through a sports magazine. "Just because she doesn't know anything about cars doesn't mean she can't build them. Yikes!" Dash ducked as a wrench flew towards him.

"Shut up."

In the last year, Dean, who built the different vehicles and gadgets for superheroes, had managed to buy an old firehouse, which he had turned into a garage/ small diner while he lived in the upstairs. While he worked on his own projects, he rented out space in the spacious former-fire-truck-garage to various other mechanics. That, plus the fact that most of these mechanics bought their lunches at the small diner in the corner, had amounted Dean a small fortune.

"Dean, come on, you and I both know I'm not here to be a mechanic's assistant."

"We do?" Dean asked, rolling back under the car.

"No! I'm here for an after school gig at the diner. I need to start saving money for college, and having a job will look really great on my paper stuff."

"Violet, I don't think it'd be a good idea."

"Yeah, 'cause you're a klutz!" Dash hollered, leaning out of the window again before ducking back inside as a hubcap came flying towards him next.

"I thought I told you to shut up!"

"Look Vi, if you need cash, just ask your parents for your share of the government money you guys are getting. I mean, it's not like the family isn't going to be able to support itself without it."

"I can't do that!"

"Why not? You earned it."

After the Underminer had been defeated and his relationship to Senator McCormick, a congressman who nearly got further super restrictions made into law, was revealed, the political problems for supers practically ceased. Not only were the supers allowed to help the law enforcement with master villains, but with "normal" cases that didn't necessarily involve a deranged lunatic in a striped costume. The only requirement was that the super be registered with a NSA agent, which, after sixteen years of hiding, was perfectly fine with the supers.

Because of this, the Incredibles had been receiving monthly paychecks for their services to the nation, one for each member of the family. Bob and Helen had been handling the checks for the family.

"Well I guess, but it's family money. Like when Dad gets his paycheck from work, he doesn't keep it all for himself."

Bob had done quite well in a job for an insurance company, Gecko, **(A/N I had to do that)**. He even had an office instead of a cubicle. Yay, Bob!

"Ya got a point there," Dean agreed. He wheeled himself out from under the car again and stood up. "I just don't think it's a job you'd really enjoy. Can't you just work at a Starbucks or something?"

"Everyone works at Starbucks. I-" Violet was interrupted when a large, fiery sound echoed from across the garage, coupled with a clanging of something heavy.

"Meg!" Dean shouted, grabbing his hair.

The girl across the room was hopping around on one foot, cursing out the propane torch.

"Hey! Hey Mack, give her a hand, huh? I'll be over in a minute!" Dean sighed and turned back to Violet.

"Pleeeeeeease?"

He sighed again. "Tell you what, you wait until you get settled back into school, then we'll discuss it, all right? I don't need your parents jumping down my throat for keeping you away from schoolwork or whatever."

"Really? You're the best, Dean!"

"It was nice knowing you, Dean," Dash shouted as Violet ran back to the car, got into the driver's seat, and drove off.

"You know," Dash said, picking up his magazine again, "I think he's right."

"Dean? About what?"

"I don't think you should be getting an after school job. You should just ask Mom and Dad for your money, 'cause, you know, that whole superhero thing takes up most of your spare time."

"Oh, what do you know, freshman."

"Whatever… you'd get more money for college by just asking for your share."

"I said, shut up!"

"Fine! See? I'm shutting up!"

"Good."

"Hey Vi, what're you gonna do at college?"

The older sister rolled her eyes. So much for shutting up. "Probably learn stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"I don't know. English stuff?"

"Journalism or something?"

"Maybe."

Just then, Violet's cell phone rang. Before she could grab it, though, Dash leapt for it and answered. "Helloooo-hoooo?"

"You're dead, kid. Hear me? Dead!" she snarled, trying to watch the road.

"Especially if you keep swerving into oncoming traffic like that."

"What!"

"Ha! Made ya look! Now, who is this?… It's your boyfriend!"

"Dash, you little-!"

"I'm kidding, it's Mom." Dash tossed the phone to his sister, who tried to catch it and answer without actually swerving into oncoming traffic.

"Hello?… You're kidding. But Mom, I have-… Really?… Okay, we'll be there in ten minutes. Loveyatoo, bye."

"What was that?"

"I hope you got your suit on," Vi said, turning on her blinker and moving into the left turn lane for the intersection they were at.

"Ah. I see. To the rescue!"

**Voila. Any more info concerning the last three years shall hopefully become known during the next couple chapters! Until then, have you hugged your Pop-tarts today?**

**Review…?**


	2. Let's get ready to rumble!

-1**MARBLE-RELLIC! Hi! I was just watching the Olympics (a sign as to how long I've waited to upload this piece of crap), and Jacobellis went waaaay down. That hurt my American-ness much. At least we got the half-pipe though. By the way, what the hell is a marble-rellic? (suggested listening: First track to the Incredibles soundtrack)**

September. Bob sat in his office, looking over papers. Well, more along the lines of pretending to look over papers while actually watching the clock for his lunch break. While working for Gecko Insurances was far better than Insuricare, it wasn't exactly as exciting as, say, being chased around a jungle island by a big metal ball with legs.

Five minutes… Close enough. He pulled open a drawer in his desk and took out a sack lunch and radio, which he turned on. **(A/N no, he took it out because he liked how it looked at noon)**

Meanwhile, Helen was vacuuming the house with the TV on, a daytime drama in development. **(A/N say that last part ten times real fast)** Both Violet and Dash were at school, Violet a senior and Dash a freshman (prepare for war, Helen), and Jack-Jack was in preschool this year. The silence from the latter absence during the day is what drove Helen to watch daytime TV while vacuuming, woe to her.

Just as she walked into the front hall to continue her cleaning, a gunshot went off inside the TV, and in an instant her neck had stretched her head back into the room.

"Ooo, who died! Who? Who? Oh, let it be Veronica!"

Unfortunately, it was not Veronica. Instead of a beautiful shot of young, handsome Erik D'Amore on the screen, the episode was suddenly filled with ol' Hamburg, the local station's head anchor, who was in dire need of a shave. The switch was so horrible, Helen (and her elongated neck) actually fell over from the shock.

She clambered back up to her feet as the interrupting news bulletin took over the tube.

On that note, Bob's favorite radio show was also being interjected by a similar interruption. "… armed robbery of the Magnus Bank at Wayland and Ballas…"

Ring ring! Bob picked up the phone. "Hi, Honey."

"It's a bank robbery," Helen said, trying to jam on her suit as she talked on the phone, watched the news bulletin, and attempted to turn of the vac before the blasted thing exploded. "You pick up Jack-Jack and I'll get the other two and we'll meet you there?"

"What am I supposed to tell his teacher this time? That his aunt's house is on fire! He doesn't even have an aunt!"

"Use your imagination!"

"If I had an imagination, I would not be working for an insurance company, Helen."

"Fine! I'll get the kids, just please be outside your building in ten minutes!"

"Hey, it's harder to sneak outta here than you think."

"Wonderful. Call the kids and tell 'em I'm on my way. Lovyahoneybye!"

Bob hung up. He looked at the door, outside of which sat his secretary. "This is the _real_ show time."

Violet and Dash, the pair at opposite ends of the school, both heard a quick set of beeping coming from underneath their shirts at the same time. Instead of bothering with calls, the family had decided to just use Edna's ingenious beep-causing tracking system on their suits to let family members know when they were needed. However, this was not always the most convenient method to get a message to folks.

Please, not now, Vi thought, her eyes shut to the various other students in the classroom staring at their beeping peers. As if on cue, she also saw a series of cop cars whizzing by through the windows beside her.

"Ms. Parr," her demonic calculus teacher said to Violet, "perhaps you could turn your cell phone off before our tests, hmm?"

"Heh heh." But before Vi could reach down and pretend to rummage through her purse, the beeping ceased. That, needless to say, caused a few raised eyebrows from those peers who'd been watching her progress.

Well crap.

"Dash, your beeping, dude," a fifteen year old boy said to his freshman compadre as they ate their lunches. His name was Mickey, and, with the exception of the Dash, he was the fastest kid in the school district in nearly twenty years.

"I noticed," Dash said, as he fidgeted around, trying to get his suit to shut up.

"Um, any reason why that keeps happening?" Alice, another track-maestro, asked.

"I swallow my watch for kicks."

"Are you serious?" asked another boy, Jim.

"No! …" An idea struck. "But I do think I swallowed something, because suddenly I'm feeling like I'm going to be sick! Tell the teacher I'm in the bathroom, later!"

With that, Dash ran out of the cafeteria, and headed in the direction of a bathroom before detouring towards Vi's calculus class.

Violet was looking at her test desperately. Must finish test! she thought. I can't leave during this test! It wasn't in the cards for her to make that choice, though. Just then, the blonde wonder better known as Dash burst into the room.

"May I help you? We're taking a test."

"Okay, first off, _they_ are taking a test; you are not, sir. Get it right. Second off, I need Violet! House on fire! Aunt down! Bad stuff, c'mon!"

Violet let her head fall down and hit her desk while her close friend, Sarah, leaned over and whispered, "For being so stiff on grammar, he's not that great at completing a sentence."

"Young man, get out of my classroom!"

Dash ran over the Violet's desk, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her to the door. "Gladly!"

"But-"

"Later!" And they're off!

"I'm gonna fail my test because of you!" Vi shouted at her lanky brother as they ran down the halls towards the gym entrance.

"No, you're gonna fail your test because some mugger has bad timing. To the rescue!"

Violet laughed. "Coach, ten o'clock!"

Dash ducked behind a trashcan, and Violet ran for a bathroom door, only to find it locked, so instead just turned invisible and stood next to a vending machine, hoping her floating clothes would go unnoticed next to the flashy colors of the soda advertisements. The coach passed by, and the pair ran for it.

As they got outside, the Incredicar pulled up and they dove straight in.

"Hi kids! How're you doing?" Helen asked as she stepped on the gas and Dash and Violet peeled off their everyday clothes to show the suits underneath.

"Great! This better be quick, my calculus teacher is gonna kill me, and I left my purse!"

"What's the skinny, Cap'n?" Dash asked excitedly, leaning up towards the front seat.

"Bank robbery. Dash, can you run go get your brother and meet up with us at your father's building?"

"Not a problem!" Dash pressed a button on the ceiling of the car, and a giant "moon roof" opened up. He climbed out, hit the button again, and stood on the roof a minute before running off the back of it.

"WOOOOOOOHOOOOOOO!"

"Showoff," Violet said, climbing into the front seat by her mother. "Veronica die yet?"

"She did not, and I do not understand why you like that other- wha- what- you- Veronica who?"

Violet smiled. For a second, anyways. "MOM, THE CAR!"

"Whoops!" Helen said, pulling the swerving vehicle out of the other lane so as to avoid running down a motorcycle headed in the same direction.

Okay, Bob, Mr. Incredible thought, completely decked out in his supersuit, having just changed in the privacy of the bathroom. Just don't get caught.

He cautiously walked out of his stall and headed for the door. When he was almost there, someone walked in, and he dove behind the swinging door and edged around it once the someone walked into a stall. He then made for the nearby stairs and started the long trek down.

"Now what color is this, kids?" the preschool teacher asked a class of four year olds, including our very own Jack-Jack.

"Purple!" the majority of the class shouted.

"Violet!" Jack-Jack yelled.

"Very good! Now what's this color?"

"Red!"

"Incredible!"

"Well, Jack-Jack, that's a positive way to look at it, but I'm asking which of the colors it is."

"Okeydokey!"

The teacher smiled, one of those smiles where the eyes close because of how the cheeks come up, and while her eyes were shut, a gust of wind blew in.

"Whoa!"

She opened her eyes and looked around, noticing the slightly ajar door.

"Jack-Jack?"

"Rapid Fire!" Jack-Jack yelled into the wind.

"That's right, Kiddo! Now tell me, where's the fire?"

"I'm the fire!" Jack-Jack cried, quickly flaming himself up, thus incinerating his day clothes and leaving only his small supersuit on him. As the fire-boy clung to Rapid Fire, the teenager handed his brother his mask.

"Where's the fire?"

"I'm de fire! I make bad guys go boom!"

"You sound like a commercial."

Rapid Fire and Flare quickly found themselves outside the huge building where Bob worked. The speedster screeched to a halt, ignoring the odd looks he and his brother got from passersby. "Now we wait."

"For Daddy?"

"No, Daddy's usually pretty quick, we're waiting for Mom, and hoping Shadow keeps her from running someone over." Sure enough, Mr. Incredible came walking towards his sons from behind the building, a banana peel sticking to his face.

"Dad, face."

"Oh, thanks."

"What'd you do, jump down the trash chute?"

"As a matter of fact-"

Whrrrrrrr! The car was there, and as per usual, Violet looked horrified in the shotgun seat at her mother's driving. "Everybody in!" Elastigirl shouted out the open window.

And off they went.

The family arrived at the bank soon enough; there was already a barrier set up to keep a crowd (and the press) back, and the cops in place looked very tense.

"Incredibles!" one of the cops exclaimed when the car pulled up and the group piled out.

"How's it look?" Mr. Incredible asked the cop who he figured was in charge, his family following behind him.

"It isn't good. We just called up a SWAT team. Sounds like they've got a small explosive set up inside; not enough to destroy the building, but certainly enough to kill a few of their _twenty _hostages."

Rapid Fire let out a loud whistle at the "twenty."

"Exactly. Not only are they grabbing dough from the place, but it seems they're also planning to take a few civilians with them once their ride out of here arrives. And I don't think they'll be very happy if they find out the supers are here. Any ideas?"

"I've got one," Shadow said. A few minutes later, things were being set up.

Two of the crooks were in the front with the hostages, which were all face down on the ground by order. Many had squirmed their way as close to various pieces of furniture as possible, desperate for anything to put between themselves and the guns. The black-clothed crooks were mumbling impatiently to each other, anxious for the fellow who was supposed to bring their ride to get there. One of them started pacing. When he passed by a window a third time, he was suddenly punched in the jaw by a very long, gloved hand, which had come through the window and went back out of it before the second crook could turn around.

"What the heck'r'you doin'!" the other crook asked the one which had fallen to the ground. As he walked over to his companion, glaring at the nearby hostages, Rapid Fire tip-toed through the door, shut it behind him, then dashed behind a set of chairs where a number of hostages were hidden.

"Shh!"

The crook whirled around at the sound of Rapid Fire's quick feet. He held up his gun, causing the civilians to tremble all the worse.

"Who the heck is pulling this crap!"

Dash chuckled. He jumped over the chair he was behind and yelled, "Boo!"

Before the low-life could even pull the trigger once, Dash was running at him and around him in circles. The man tried to follow him around, shooting bullets randomly as he spun around, until he suddenly found himself facing a huge chest. He looked up into the face of the much bigger Mr. Incredible.

He whimpered, and for good reason.

The cops, SWAT team, and crowd were watching anxiously from afar when a beat up crook went flying out a window, into the stretched out arms of Mrs. Incredible, and was flung into a cop van, followed by the unconscious one with a dislocated jaw. The doors were promptly closed, and Elastigirl, with Rapid Fire and Flare, set about taking care of the hostages while Mr. Incredible set about looking for the right room…

Outside of the only vault in the bank, some banging could be heard from an overhead opening to an air duct, when Shadow came falling clumsily out with an "umph!" Standing up again, she pressed her hand and an ear against the vault door. Yep, the last three were in there, and the vault door wasn't closed all the way. Finally, something easy. She pulled away again and turned herself invisible.

"Hurry up!" one of the robbers, facing away from the door, was saying to another as Shadow softly pushed the vault door so it would swing open gently.

"I'm going! I'm going!"

Thud. The pair of crooks jumped up and aimed their guns at the corner of the room when they heard the door gently hit the wall. Adrenaline pumped into their systems as they looked around madly, knowing there was no way a gust of wind opened that door.

Shadow walked extremely quietly, a talent she'd perfected during the last few years to avoid having someone shoot at her face because they could hear her clunking feet. The men before her aimed wild eyed at the door as she walked around behind them. She stepped right behind them, almost close enough for them to feel her breath on their necks. She looked over their shoulders a moment, then looked at one of the walls of locked drawers where a small bomb was situated and put a forcefield around it. The teen went visible again.

Shadow stepped back a few steps. "Hello, boys." The men spun around, but a forcefield was around them before they could react. They looked, quite simply, dumbfounded. "C'mon, you didn't really think I was going to let you get away with this mess, did you?"

Just as Mr. Incredible walked in, one of the muggers pressed a button. Everyone in the room looked up as the tiny bubble around the bomb was suddenly sent into such a flurry it looked like an odd snow globe.

"Gee, that was productive."

The Incredibles loaded the last two muggers into the cop van shortly thereafter.

"Good jobs, Incredibles," the van driver said.

"Not a problem!" Rapid Fire saluted.

"Uh oh," the top cop said nearby. He answered his ringing phone. "You guys might want to listen to this."

"What is it, officer?" Elastigirl asked.

"Some creep's got his sister and girlfriend at gunpoint in his apartment, demanding money from his parents. Think you guys could handle it?"

"Absolutely," Mr. Incredible said, checking his watch and hoping it wouldn't take up too much more of his lunch break.

"Great! Let's see, sounds like Fifth and Washington, and- what the-? … Uh oh, 'nother one."

"That's okay. Rapid Fire," Incredible said, "you go take care of the hostage situation, we'll take whatever this is."

"On it!" Rapid Fire exclaimed before running off.

"What!" Shadow exclaimed.

As Mr. Incredible asked for the location of whatever emergency was taking place now, Elastigirl took Shadow aside and whispered to her. "Vi, Dash can have that mess taken care of in an instant. We need you here with us in case this is an even bigger emergency. To protect everyone. Okay?"

"…Okay."

"C'mon, guys! To the car!" Incredible commanded.

"But wait!" the cop shouted after them. "You don't- oohhh." They were gone.

The Incredicar pulled in front of a rundown house before any officers arrived. Mr. Incredible, Elastigirl, Shadow, and little Flare ran through the front door into the house.

"Oh! You're here already!" an old woman in a bathrobe, sitting on her couch in front of her TV said.

"What's the problem, Ma'am?" Mr. Incredible asked.

"Well, I'm not exactly as strong as I used to be, you know…"

"Yes," Shadow agreed.

"And well, the show's gonna be on real soon, and it'd be a shame if I missed it…"

"Ma'am, is there an emergency here?" Elastigirl asked.

"Oh yes, there is."

"Care to tell us what it is?" Shadow mumbled. Her mother elbowed her for it.

"Oh! Oh, certainly. See, I was wondering if the 9-1-1 could just send a nice young man to help me open my beer bottle before the show started!" The woman held up the bottle for proof, along with a number of items that it seemed she'd tried to open it with. As you might've guessed, Shadow gave her parents a truly irritated look. **(A/N inspired from a true event)**

Dash ran straight into the evacuated apartment building after receiving the number of the room where the creep lay, waiting to be Dash-ified. The gleeful teen started humming the Jaws theme to himself as he quietly walked up the stairs. But when he arrived at the room, he noticed the door ajar, light falling out into the dark hall. He cautiously peeked inside. From where he stood, he could only see furniture. So, in perfect Dash form, he ran in and ducked behind a sofa. And cringed when he heard the door slam against the wall from him pushing it open so he could do his perfect Dash form. That, after all, is what perfect Dash form is all about.

However, no one came storming in. In fact, Rapid Fire didn't hear anything in the entire apartment. He stood up, looked out a nearby window where the cops and a small group of press peoples (mostly the leftovers from the bank robbery, he noticed) were gathered, waiting for him to send an all clear sign. The boy turned back to the apartment, and started to walk cautiously in.

"Hello?" he called as quietly as possible, hoping not to find himself face to face with some armed maniac. As he rounded a corner from the main room into a kitchen/dining room, though, Rapid Fire was shocked to find he needn't worry.

Beside a table, the girlfriend and sister were sitting unconscious against each other, with their bonds of cotton rope cut from around them. In the corner, a giant sledge hammer leaned against a wall with little gun-bits surrounding it. And right in front of him, the creep lay unconscious. Well, not exactly "lay." He was tied all around his torso, and from his back another rope had him tied to the ceiling fan. The man's mouth was covered with a white bandana, and on his face was drawn a big smiley face in black sharpie. Something else was drawn on him: a little black diamond was outlined on his forehead.

He walked over to the kitchen window and leaned out into the alley it looked over. All he saw was a trash bin at one end, and some random motorcycler driving down the road on the other end. He went back and looked at the guy.

That's weird, Rapid Fire thought. Just as he stood back up from looking at the guy's face, he noticed the girls waking up.

"Oh! It's Rapid Fire!"

"What? Wait, you mean we're not… it is Rapid Fire!"

"Uh…"

They noticed their brother/boyfriend hanging peculiarly from the ceiling fan.

"He saved us!"

"Yeah… sure."

"What is it?"

"I'm trying to remember how I got him up there."

Rapid Fire was watching the cops carry the bound man towards a police car, the girls being tended to by paramedics, when the Incredicar blasted up to him.

"Hey Son! Went well I take it?"

"Uh, sure, you?"

"Oh, it was marvelous," his sister said as the group got out of the car.

"Uh," Dash said quietly, "actually, I didn't do it."

"What?"

"The guy was already tied to the ceiling fan when I got there."

"That is odd," agreed Elastigirl.

"Wait," Shadow said. "Did he have some strange marker on him?"

"Yeah, there was a smiley face drawn on him-"

"Nope, never mind. That's just weird."

"Tell me about it. -and a little diamond."

"Oh! I was right!"

"What is it?"

"In current events class. These last couple months, the cops keep showing up to places, expecting they'll need to call us in, only to find the creeps taken care of, with little diamonds drawn on their foreheads."

"It couldn't be a super, we're to only registered ones in the area."

"Except Frozone, but he'd never-"

"Wait a minute!"

"What! What is it, Shadow?"

"My Calc test! It's been an hour! I'm gonna die!"

Helen gasped. "The preschool teacher is probably going crazy!"

"Jim's probably been looking in every bathroom in the school, trying to figure out where I'm being sick."

"And I have… about three minutes left for my lunch hour. I think it's time we returned to our daily activities, hm?"

"Agreed!" the family shouted in unison, and the group piled into the Incredicar once again.

As Bob was finishing tying back on his tie, sitting down at his office desk, his secretary rang in.

"A Rick Dicker's on the phone for you, Mr. Parr."

"Oh, sure, I'll talk to him."

Click. "Hey Bob."

"Hey Rick! What can I do for you?"

"I think we should meet later tonight. NSA business."

"What about?"

**How's THAT for a second chapter! Pretty good, if I do say so myself! But then, I eat Pop-tarts and cherry pie with my pizza.**

**Review…?**


	3. She'll drop a car on your head

-1**WEEK LONG POWER OUTAGES _SUCK!_**

**Meep! New cd! Ever hear of Great Big Sea? A friend suggested them to me. What'ya think of that last chapter? Long enough for ya? Let's hope so, cause that thing took me, like, eight hours! Well maybe not that long. But anyways, OH DANNY BOOOOOOY, THE PIPES, THE PIPES ARE CAAAAAAALLIIIIIIIIING…(be glad you can't hear me singing)**

Helen was cooking up dinner and setting the table that night while Violet sat at the table, looking through various books and brochures. Jack-Jack sat staring fixedly at the television nearby, and above their heads, the muffled notes of Dash's trumpeting was heard.

"How about the University of Missouri?" Helen suggested, taking a moment to look over her daughter's shoulder. "Don't they have some veterinary school there?"

"I think that's grad school, Mom. Besides, I don't think I'd want to be a vet."

"Well, I'm sure it's still a nice school. What other majors do they have good programs for?"

"I don't think I'd want to go there, Mom."

"Why not?"

"Because it's in Missouri."

"…Okay."

"Where's Dad, by the way?"

"Oh, he said he had to drop by the NSA agency after work. Something about unregistered supers or something."

"I don't think we should have to be registered."

"Well, neither do I, but it's better than being locked in a closet."

"You sound like Dad."

"You're right… Don't tell him."

Vi pretended to zip her lips shut.

As Helen started to finger through the mail, she looked over at her daughter. Violet would be going to college in a year, and the thought made Helen fidgety and a bit pained in the heart. Her only daughter was practically grown…

Oh stop it, she thought. You still have two more before you're allowed to have empty nest syndrome. Or is it sickness? Stop it!

"So Vi, what were you thinking about for your major?"

"I still can't really decide."

"You better hurry up! We need to visit campuses! And then you have to get all your forms mailed in!"

"I know! I was thinking something with English, but I don't know what… Uh Mom?"

"Hm?"

Violet nodded towards the oven.

"My potatoes!" Helen cried as the pot boiled over.

"I'm not de only one who goes boom?" Jack-Jack asked, looking over as his mother desperately tried to salvage to pot.

"That is correct."

Bob walked into the NSA building, suited up as he'd been asked to by Rick. The tired ol' government agent was waiting a few feet away, and the pair started to walk down the hall.

"So are you going to tell me what I'm doing here?"

"You know what a problem unregistered supers are these days."

"Yeah. Every time one turns up, it's all over the news like it's some sort of crime."

"Technically it is."

"Well, you'd think there'd be more outrage over the murder."

"You'd think. Unregistered vigilantes are all those old politicians need to get restrictions back in place. One major screw up and we'll all pay for it."

"Your point being?"

"We found a screw up." The pair rounded a corner.

"But why did you bring me here?"

"I think she'd be of particular interest to you," Rick said as they walked into a dark waiting room of sorts. They both sat down, and Rick sighed one of his trademark sighs. Bob couldn't help but think the man ought to go on a cruise next summer.

"Tough times for supers, Bob."

"Anyone could tell you that."

"I suppose I ought to be grateful kids like this are showing up. You know they think supers might go 'extinct?'"

"That's ridiculous! There must be tons of supers across the country."

"There are, but not nearly as many as we could use. Some are afraid of prejudice, some don't think they could use their powers productively, a lot don't even realize they have powers. Then there are those who'd rather use their powers to commit crime instead of stop it. And of course, Syndrome didn't help. He did a great job of exterminating some of our best."

Bob thought about that a minute, slightly displeased by the use of the word "exterminate" in the sentence.

Rick sighed again. "But it sure makes my job harder."

A young man in a suit stepped out from a room nearby. "Agent Dicker," he said, "Mr. Incredible."

"Go ahead, Bob," Rick said. "You talk to her. I've already tried."

"Thanks." Bob walked into the room as the young agent walked out.

Sitting, well, slouching at the table inside was a teenage girl, her head falling back over the top of the chair as she stared at the ceiling. When Bob closed the door behind him, she turned her head over to look at him. Because of the dim lighting, he couldn't make out many of her features, but he could tell she was wearing street clothes overhauled to be an improvised supersuit.

"Hello, Ms. uh…"

"Hunter."

"Right." Bob sat down across from her.

"So," the young Ms. Hunter said, hanging an arm over her tired eyes, "they letting me out yet?"

"No, they thought we should chat first."

"Ya know they took my motorcycle? I made that thing myself. You guys better not scratch him up. So what are we supposed to chat about?"

"Well, if I understand correctly, you're that mysterious hero who's been giving the city's criminals diamonds and (ahem) smiley faces?"

The girl smirked. "You, Mr. Incredible, are one smart cookie."

"Thank you, Ms. Hunter."

"Megan."

"Right. So, what do you do?"

Megan sat up, her arms crossed, and looked at Mr. Incredible in a peculiar way. She continued to look at things that way as she turned her face to the large metal table. She reached out her hand, grabbed the corner of the table, and lifted.

Mr. Incredible was quite astonished to see this girl lift what had to be a hundred pound table like it was a pencil above their heads. True, he'd done similar things himself, but it was a bit different to see someone else do it.

"I couldn't do this a year ago," Megan said as she let the table fall back in place.

"Huh."

"And that ain't all, either."

"What?"

"Yeah. I get these weird, shiny, shell things. It's weird."

"How about you just show me?"

"Whatever," she said, holding out an arm over the table. Bob was astonished as thin sheets of natural material stuck out of her flesh and rounded over her muscles to form strange, for the lack of a better word, shells. It reminded him of knight's armor. "Isn't that weird?" she asked, moving her arm. The sheets made a slight scraping sound as they moved over one another, allowing complete flexibility. As she moved, Bob noticed the strange sheets shimmer slightly. They looked like bone with diamond mixed throughout.

The things Edna could do with this girl.

"Do your parents know about this, Megan?"

"They do now."

"Are they here?"

"My dad."

"Was he in that waiting room?"

"How should I know! I've been in here all day!"

"Then how'd you know he was here?"

"That Agent dude told me."

"Right. So, do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"What are you, an army recruiter?"

"Sorry."

"Seven."

"Come again?"

"Seven brothers."

Oh my God. "Huh."

"Yeah. And before you ask, none of them have shown any superness yet."

"You know, Megan," Bob said, deciding to change the subject, "unregistered vigilantism is a crime."

"What're you gonna do? Put me in the slammer? For stopping those creeps?"

"Because you're not registered, most of them will probably go free. There isn't enough credible evidence for conviction."

"Idn't that just great? At least I let them know they can get caught."

"You knew and you did it anyways?"

"Wouldn't you?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, I would."

"Good. That means you probably won't have me thrown in jail."

"What-?"

"You don't really want to throw me in there, do you?"

"You broke the law, Ms. Hunter."

"Oh, come on, you and I both know you don't need a license to drive. You can even do it legally without a license."

"I'm pretty sure you do, Megan."

"No, you don't." She let her head droop back and closed her eyes again. "You just need a learner's permit." The teenager yawned.

Huh…

"They could at least give me a bed while they decide what to do with me. Or water."

"Well, Megan." Bob stood up. "I think these guys would be willing to let you go and get some rest." He offered his hand, and she shook it as she stood up. For once, he didn't feel like he was crushing someone's hand. "I think we'll probably be meeting again in the near future, but for now, I think we should both go home."

"For once, an adult I can agree with."

**Hey, I got it a lot shorter than I thought it would be! Thank goodness! Do a dance! Do-di-doot-doot! A new character! Think she'll play a big part in zis story? Got me, I'm making this junk up as I go! But you know what Thumper says? YOU GOTTA SEE IT! BWA HAHAHAHA! THE BUNNY COMMANDS ALL!**

**Review…?**


	4. Creeps and trumpets

-1**I have no idea what I'm doing. Zis fiction is going to be quite a bit different from its predecessor, eh? Methinks I might need to rewrite some of these chapters. They need some Pop-tarts. I need some pop-tarts. I SCREAM, YOU SCREAM, WE ALL SCREAM FOR POP-TARTS! Meep!**

"So, let me get this straight," Helen said to Bob as he got ready to go to work. "You think this girl should get registered, (which makes sense, I'm not arguing there, she can avoid all sorts of legal trouble) but then _you _want to _train _her?" she said, motioning towards him with the frying pan she wasn't actually using.

"Sure, why not?"

"Heh, because you already have three other kids to train, and raise, along with a demanding job, your own superhero work, and a wife who needs your help every now and then."

Bob paused as he picked up an apple from the kitchen counter. "True, but this girl needs help, too."

"Well, what about Lucious? He doesn't have anyone tagging along after him!"

"I thought of that, but-"

"But?"

"But I think I would make the best mentor for her." He took a bite out of the apple and began tying his tie.

"You're too busy for this, Bob!"

"If she were flexible instead of strong, you wouldn't be this upset."

"No, I would be just as upset!" The pair walked towards the door.

"Hey, come on, we can do this!"

"'We?' What 'we?' When did this become a 'we?'"

Bob hesitated. "W-when I talked to her father and arranged for her to come meet all of us."

"No. No no no no no no! You can't have a questionable youth knowing who we are!"

Before she had finished her sentence, Bob had already interjected, "Oh come on, Helen! Edna and Dean know who we are and they don't go-"

"They're bound by contract."

"What about Lucious?"

"He's different."

"How is it different?" he asked, taking a peek at his watch.

"He never broke the law in order to-"

"It didn't used to be against the law!"

Helen blew hair out of her face, shaking her head slightly with cynical, detached eyes. Bob sighed.

"Look. I'm bringing her down to meet you all tomorrow. She's trusting all of us with her secret, we can do the same. Now, now, now," he was saying in response to Helen's shaking head. He held her face to look at his with a hand. "If things don't work out, I'll ask Lucious to give us a hand. But don't condemn the girl without even meeting her."

They kissed goodbye, and Bob left for work. Helen sighed and looked behind her at the kids, who were watching the conversation instead of eating their breakfast. She reached across the room to put the frying pan back as she walked around the table.

"What?" she asked the breakfast attendants. "What?"

"Seems to me like you two ought to stop talking about whoever-this-is like she's a car," Violet said as she grabbed the paper from her father's place at the table. Helen looked at Dash, waiting for his judgment.

"Don't look at me, I just live here."

"Thanks."

"Do we not like the car?" Jack-Jack asked.

"No," Helen said, sitting down at the table. "We just want Daddy to tell us beforehand when he's buying one."

"TGIF," Violet deducted.

"Indeed."

Dean was sitting in his "apartment" above the garage late that night, watching TV before bed, when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Reynolds?"

"Yeah?"

"I've been told that you construct vehicles of a different sort for particular clients. Is that correct?"

"Well it depends. I'm usually less likely to take a commission if the client is using a voice scrambler."

"You have a good ear."

"It's not that hard. Whatever it is, it can wait until morning. Good night."

"Mr. Reynolds, wait!"

Dean switched hands and sighed irritably. "What?"

"I think it would be in your best interest if you designed a special vehicle for _this _client. I simply prefer a certain level of anonymity. Just like some of your other clients, the Incredibles, I believe?"

Dean stiffened. His brow furrowed. "How do you know about that?"

"It was a hypothesis you just proved correct, Mr. Reynolds-" Dean shut his eyes, upset by his own stupidity, "-based off freely accessible facts."

"Look, I-"

"What are they like, Mr. Reynolds? Do they seem like a normal family?"

You might have guessed that Dean's thoughts were not following the PG rating at this point. **(A/N déjà vu)**

"Is Mr. Incredible quiet? Loud? Outgoing? Supportive? Or perhaps he's unhappy? Or was?"

The vehicle manufacturer felt his heartbeat speeding up while his throat seemed unable to tell this man to stop it.

"What about he children? Shadow must be nearing the age where she will be leaving home. Or has that time come and gone? Is she smart? Pretty? Dark and mysterious? Does she earn glances from men, or does she seek them out? Neither? Are the boys happy? Perhaps Rapid Fire is a bit violent?"

"Buddy, I can- can trace this call if I want to."

"And what of Elastigirl? Or, as she is more commonly known among the older generation, _Mrs_. Incredible? Does she have a day job? Is she happy? Is she taken care of, or ignored? Loved at all? Does he appreciate her? Do her children give her grief? Her husband? Does she enjoy poetry? Does she enjoy the mountains? Or would she prefer the beach?"

Who the heck is this guy?

"Tell me, Mr. Reynolds," the voice said, as though he were sneering, "does Ms. Elastigirl's heart belong to that-"

He slammed the phone down. Dean breathed heavily for a moment or two, holding the phone down on its receiver, the television bringing him back to the present. "Oooohhhh, man," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Oh, Bob, what'd you do this time?" The thirty year left the TV on, along with a lamp, when he went to bed that night, deciding to call Bob in the morning.

"Sounds like a smart fanatic," Lucious said the next day at a pancake house where he, Dean, and Bob had decided to have breakfast.

"You think?" Dean asked.

"Sure! Think about it. The Incredibles work in this city alone. You are known as the son of the fellow who used to build cars and stuff for supers, and rumor has it you've continued the business. It's probably just some guy who lives with his mom that has a thing for your wife, no offense Bob."

"Huh. Well, I have no idea who it is, Dean," Bob said, being careful not to get syrup down his front. "Could be more trouble."

"Heh, yeah, we haven't had trouble since the Underminer."

"Well I had trouble last night, and I'm thinking you two ought to keep your eyes peeled," Dean said. The other two looked at each other; Dean wasn't the sort to let idiots get to him.

"You said he had a voice scrambler?"

"Definitely. Either that, or someone taught a rabbit-monkey how to speak."

"Look, let's just eat and you two can stop worrying over nothing, hm? Remember that mess we had before?"

"Which one?" Dean and Bob asked in unison.

"I was about to say, the thing with that boy at the movie theater. We were all so worried that he'd end up unmending like that Kari girl did and figure out who the Incredibles were. Did it happen? No!"

Yes! As a matter of fact, he knew exactly who the Incredibles were!

"And look at it now. Vi's still dating him, am I right?"

Yes.

"Yeah," Dean said. "He dropped her off at the garage a few days ago to beg for a job some more since Helen was using the car to pick up groceries."

"Heh, she's more like you then you know, Bob."

"You think?"

"Oh yeah. Doesn't know when she's being overworked."

"Or underestimated."

Just then, the waitress came up to ask if the food was all right, and after she left, the conversation turned to sports. Apparently, Bob was very offended that Dean and Lucious weren't cheering for the home football team this season on the grounds that they sucked.

It was about one in the afternoon when Bob was pulling onto the street where Megan's father said they lived. As he looked at the houses, he noted that the neighborhood wasn't terribly different from his own. Each family with its own quirks, but not necessarily suspect of super activity.

He pulled into the drive of the specified house and walked towards the door. Two bikes sat in the lawn, and he could make out a swing set in the back through some dying hedges at the side of the house. Bob rang the doorbell just as he heard something crash inside.

"Tim, what're you doing to his hair!"

Uh oh.

"Oh shoot, it's already one. DAD!"

That had to be Megan.

"Meg, you can't just leave me with these guys!"

"Sorry, Danny! DAD, I GOTTA GO! SEE YA LATER AND… whatever!"

Bob could barely make out a boy in the house saying, "At least help me separate these two first!"

More crashing.

As footsteps approached the other side of the door, Bob stepped back from the door. Megan came out and ran straight into him, sending her careening back into the freshly closed door.

"Omph!"

"Uh."

Megan looked up. She studied him for a moment, trying to place him. "Mr. Incredible."

"Ms. Hunter."

"Megan."

"What, uh…?"

"Twins got in a fight."

"Right."

Sitting in the car, Bob was able to get a good look at the girl for the first time (and she seemed to be doing the same to him, anyways). She was short compared to his family, probably five foot four, making her only taller than Jack-Jack; both Dash and Violet had outgrown Helen in the last year. Her hair was long, like Violet's. It was almost as dark as Violet's, too; in the dark lighting from before, he had thought it was black, but now he could just see that it was dark brown, and when the light hit it, it looked red. Like a Coca Cola bottle, he thought. Brown eyes… and awkward silence.

"So Megan, what's your father do?"

"He's the manager of a pancake house downtown."

The irony.

"And your Mom?"

"Lawyer. Well, a state prosecutor."

"Gotya." This girl did not seem quite as responsive as she had been a few days ago. "What're your brothers' names?"

"Charlie is two, Luke is six, Brandon is seven, Tim and Arthur are eleven, Danny is fourteen, and I'm sixteen."

"Ah…" He did some math. "I thought you said you have seven brothers?"

"Oh, Simon. He's twenty-six."

"Oh? What's he doing?"

"He's in France, teaching English to pre-teens."

"That's interesting."

"That's the polite way to put it, yeah."

Oh-kaaaay…?

"Here we are," Bob said, pulling onto his street.

"You think Mrs. Elastigirl's going to mind that her trainee-in-law drives a motorcycle?"

"Heh, she might." Bob pulled into the drive and turned the car off.

Quite suddenly, the sounds of a loud scream, a trumpet blatting, and a small explosion echoed from inside the house, producing astonished looks on both of the faces in the car.

"Did we come at the wrong time?"

"I had no idea you could hear that stuff from out here."

As they walked in the door, smoke billowed out around them.

"Honey?" Bob called, Megan following close behind.

"We're in here!"

"What happened!" Bob asked through coughs as he and Meg walked into the kitchen, where the smoke was too thick to see.

Someone- Violet they saw a moment later- opened the windows, allowing the smoke to escape, thus producing visibility.

A giant, burnt hole in the ceiling was above where Dash and Jack-Jack stood. Dash looked as though a bomb went off in his face as he held his equally blackened trumpet, and Jack-Jack had a face Bob could only guess to be a mixture of "oops" and "uh oh." Meanwhile, Helen was fanning out the smoke with several various cooking sheets, and Violet had just snapped a picture of Dash's astonished, blackened face before resuming her fanning as well.

"What happened?" Helen repeated back. "Why don't-" she said between fannings, "you ask… your… sons!"

"It was an accident!" Dash cried.

"Ah made a boo-boo!" Jack-Jack defended.

"I- I was just- we just- I just wanted to- to-"

"Yes?" Violet inquired with a smile.

"I wa- we were- I was showing him how to- to-"

"Play trumpet!"

"Yeah! And he wanted- wanted to try blowing in it, so I picked him up and held it up for him, and he blew into it, and- and- and-"

"Dragon's breath!"

"We exploded!"

"Well Grasshopper," Violet said, clapping the middle child on the back, "you apparently have not been studying your chemistry."

"But I-"

"Young man… men," Helen started in, "that hole above your heads is going to cost us a fortune!"

"J-just take it outta our hero money! It- it'll be easy! Just tell the fixer dude we put soap in the microwave or something!"

"Dash…" Bob said, holding his forehead.

In the midst of this, the family suddenly became aware of a stifled laugh in the background, and as they turned to face its producer through the smoke, it became evermore unrestrained. It was Megan.

"This is great!" she said as she looked between each family member and the hole in the ceiling. "You're all… strangely normal!"

The Parrs looked at each other, and quickly found that laughter is contagious.

**Merk! Sorta went all over the map with ze mood of that chapter I do believe! Bodacious! So, you think this one's going to be a shorter story than last time? Think again! Ha ha! I'm doing nothing! LA DE DA DE DA WONDERFUL! Let's see where I take us! (Somewheeeaaare ooover the rainbooow…)**

**Review…?**


	5. Warning: Do not eat trumpet

-1**Ala kazaam! Bippidy bopped bop! Slam-a-lam-a-ding-dong (Go Cards)! And HOOOOOOW ARE ALLLLLLL OF YOU? Me, I'm crazy! You know what I love about this thing? It let's me take my mind off of my life dat's falling apart! OOMPAA! Fifteen men on a dead man's chest! Yo ho ho, and a box of Pop-tarts! And Captain Jack Sparrow, 'cause let's face it, he is way hotter than Orlando Bloom.**

"So, what exactly do you do?" Violet asked Megan as they and Dash worked on repairing the hole in the ceiling, while Helen, Bob, and Jack-Jack worked on repairing the hole in Jack-Jack's bedroom floor (introductions already made). Dash, due to limited visibility at the moment, was restricted to sorting out the various items to be handed to Megan, who would take them from the table where Dash was to Violet, who was standing on top of a ladder beneath the hole.

"Well…" Megan said, an befuggled look on her face. "It's kinda hard to explain."

"Here's another question: how come _I'm_ the one fixing _your _mess?" Vi asked, pointing her hammer at Dash.

"Hey, my face has quite possibly been permanently dyed charcoal. Lay off."

"Stop fighting," Helen barked, sticking her head through the hole with her arm so she could grab a new nail from Dash's pile. "Try to explain it, Meg," she said to change the subject.

"Um… I get these weird shield-armor things that are shiny. It's weird."

"That made no sense."

"Sort your nails, twerp."

"Show us."

"What?"

"He means, show us the weird shield things."

"Like this?" Meg asked, sticking out an arm and displaying it as separate sheets of bone mixed with diamond wrapped around it.

"Holy-"

"Violet!" Helen interrupted.

"Hey!" Dash exclaimed. "Your like that comic-book X-man guy! Oh, whatshisname! Uh… the one who, like, encases himself in metal! Colossus! **(A/N this is a hint for those of you who couldn't get my description of Meg's power)**

For a second, the sixteen year old looked taken aback, then said, "And hey! Your like that comic-book x-man guy who runs a lot! What's his name! Quicksilver?" She smiled sarcastically.

"Touché," Dash nodded in submission.

"Ooh, thank you," Vi said, shaking her hand as she took some more duct tape from the younger girl.

"So, um, why don't you guys tell me about yourselves. I mean, I see you two at school, but-"

"You do?" Bob asked from above.

"Sure," Vi said. "We live in the same school district, don't we?"

"Yeah, but we've never spoken before."

"That's because she's an almighty senior this year, and you and I are a lowly sophomore and a lower freshman."

"I'm a junior."

"Fine, I'll be lowly all by myself, see what I care." Dash pretended to be offended.

"Not true! Jack-Jack's lowly, too."

"Violet, look out!" Helen shouted from above as a hammer fell through the hole. Vi ducked under her arms and put up a force field just in time so that it didn't matter. Instead, it bounced off the force field and landed in the sink with a clang.

"And I thought my family was crazy," Meg said.

"Oh don't you worry," Dash said. "We're the craziest folks around. Except, you know, crazy people."

"Your vocabulary amazes us. How you managed to skip a grade is beyond me," Violet grumbled as she handed the hammer back to her parents through the shrinking hole.

"You skipped a grade?"

"Why yes, I skipped fifth grade, now that you mention it. I'm smart like that."

"Contrary to popular belief."

"Hey!"

"Kids! Don't make me finish something before it starts. Stop arguing and get working!"

When the ceiling/floor was finally patched (although roughly, with mostly spare boards, cardboard, and duct tape), the entire group sat at the table, the kids eating Oreos and talking while Helen read a book and drank tea and Bob read the paper.

Violet whistled low. "Seven brothers? I can barely handle two."

"But you do it very," Jack-Jack was saying as he reached to dunk his Oreo in a glass of milk, "…well." He smiled and shook his head back and forth happily for completing his task, making his long red-brown hair flop everywhere.

"And your two have super powers," Meg pointed out.

"Very true," Dash agreed. "And Jack-Jack here has around a million on his own, so it all amounts to about six or seven normal brothers."

"Whatever."

"How's senior year going for you, Vi?"

"All right. Most of my classes are okay, and Mom lets me use her car a lot of the time so I can drive around."

"Your welcome."

"Thank you."

"And she has a hot boyfriend!"

"Dash!"

"HA!" In the blink of an eye, the teenage boy had zoomed off, probably to a nearby music store, and wouldn't return for the next hour if someone didn't retrieve him.

Bob sighed. "I'll get him."

"And I might as well get started on dinner."

"We'll give you a hand, Mom," Vi said, and both girls walked into the kitchen after her.

"No more Oreos?" Jack-Jack asked.

"No, don't spoil your appetite."

"He's a character," Meg commented.

"Dash? Yeah. But we love him anyways."

"Um, I don't mean to be all business or something, but uh… what exactly am I supposed to do when I come over here? I mean, I get that I'm supposed to be learning how to 'be a good superhero' or whatever, and you guys are all great, but I'm not really getting how all this is supposed to help me."

Just then, wouldn't you know it, Jack-Jack fell victim to a fit of sneezes which resulted in him setting himself and his chair on fire.

"WHAT THE HECK!" the utterly shocked Megan exclaimed, running over to the unharmed four-year-old with her arms armored, picking him up, throwing him into the kitchen sink, then beating the chair out with her jacket before Helen or Violet realized what it was that had sent the newcomer into a panic. They looked between the panting teenager, standing over the smoking chair, and the bewildered toddler steaming under the sink faucet.

"Well," Helen said, "you could help _me_ by coming over and doing that fifteen times a day so that I don't loose all of my hot-pads."

**I'm trying really hard to not make this story like so many others I've read introducing a new character with superpowers. So if you like it, say so. If you don't, I agree with you. BYKER HILL AND WALKER SHORE! OTHER WORDS I CAN'T MAKE OUT TO THIS SONG THAT ROCKS! (there ya go, Pop-tarts and Irish/folk/rock music to write a chapter. I'm crazy)**

**Review…?**


	6. School begins

-1**I… want… a pop-tart…**

As it turned out, Megan fit in quite well with the Parrs, much to the relief of both Helen and Bob. And Lucious, because he enjoyed not having Bob's fatherly responsibilities. In fact, in the next month, she came over more and more often until everyday after school, she would ride home with Violet and Dash and get a ride home late at night. This, needless to say, resulted in some interesting ways.

It became commonplace for Megan to help Helen out in the kitchen (which sometimes meant helping out with the exploding toddler instead), for one. Eventually, after they both let go of their pride, Megan and Dash started tutoring each other; Megan was failing math, and Dash couldn't follow a history class even if it leashed him in. **(A/N Where did that come from?)** And of course, Violet and Megan bonded immediately; finally, a sister for them both!

"…makes you calm. She'll hold you captivated in her palm!" Megan shouted across the house.

"Suddenly I see!" Violet sang into her hairbrush, leaping over the couch in scrubs and socks.

"This is what I wanna be!" Megan answered, sock-sliding down the hall to join her partner.

"Suddenly I see! Why the hell it means so much to me!" the duo sang to each other, leaving the nearby Dash, who HAD been watching TV with Jack-Jack, staring confusedly.

"Oh, come on, Dash, you know KT Tuntstall is good music."

"Sorry, but no."

"Oh, and what do you like?" Megan asked.

"Gershwin!"

The girls blinked. "Is he serious?"

"Unfortunately."

"The guy was a mad genius."

"So was Mohler, and he wrote a two-hour long symphony everyone sleeps through."

"Hey, I didn't! It's not my fault you and Mom and Dad have no class."

"Do I want to know?"

"No."

"Girls are weird."

"You keep thinking that, buster."

"Kids!" Helen shouted from the basement. "What's taking you so long? Get down here, NOW!"

"Coming!" all four responded.

By saving up the family's superhero-work-money, then paying Dean to "supe up" the stuff, the Parrs had made a super training center over the last year, pun intended. They kept the equipment in a well-sized room in the basement, which they kept locked up whenever company came over.

What do I mean by "equipment?" Let's see now. Anyone could use the normal treadmill (after all, they had to be in good enough shape to chase bad guys all over town), but Dash had his own special treadmill which, when it read five miles an hour, was actually going about 40x that speed. It was a bad day for anyone else who accidentally got onto that device (which had happened on those particularly stressful days, like when Bob had a big meeting or Vi had some huge test).

Then, for Helen, or anyone who wanted to practice how to fall without breaking a color bone, a section of the room was covered in tumbling mats. She also had her own special Bowflex-type machine that Dean had somehow extended to accommodate Mrs. Incredible's flexibility.

Bob, of course, could always go down to the train yard if he wanted some really challenging weight lifting, but they also had a bench press and independent weights for him at the house, up to about 500 pounds; he also had his own Bowflex-type machine. This stuff was, naturally, shared with the learning Megan. We say "learning" because she had yet to figure out how to control her strength. She was hardly in as good shape as the rest of the family, but the teen did have one strength: "she'd make a freaking awesome knight," as Vi and Dash would say. Yes, Megan could easily shield-up, either entirely or just in part.

Meanwhile, Violet had a more difficult time training, simply because of the ambiguity of her own powers. She could train some with everyone else's stuff, but she would regularly go into a large closet off the side of the room that she had vamped up for herself. Here, she could experiment and practice with her powers as she wished, especially her forcefields. What she actually did was a mystery to her family, but she would occasionally share the info with Tony, and lately she had been working on forcefield shapes. Orbs and circular shapes had been mastered, and in the last few years, she had become a master of enormous shields. Now she was working on odd shapes, like cubes, pyramids, and plain flat shields. Very secret stuff.

And then there was Jack-Jack. He basically had a pen in the middle of the room to himself and a fire extinguisher and was allowed to work however a four year old fireball can without hurting someone.

Yes, this was indeed the "training" room. **(A/N we have just addressed a little pet peeve of mine. Voila)** If everyone in the world "trained" the way these supers did, current Olympians would have little to brag about.

**How was that for a transition chapter? Short, I know, but cut me some slack; I couldn't sleep past 7 this morning, I haven't had anything to eat, and my legs feel like I-beams. WHAT HAPPENED TO MY FRIKIN' SUMMER! I HATE BEING RESPONSIBLE! OCH NO BIEN SCHNII! (ooo, new language! I shall call it Squishy, and it shall be mine, and it shall be my Squishy!)**

**Review…?**


	7. Stress in October

-1**Yay! Writing two days in a row! I think I'm finally getting back into things! And guess what! School starts in like a week! Can I scream, please? (inhale)… AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!**

"See ya later, kiddo!" Violet called out the window to Jack-Jack as she and Dash left their younger brother at preschool.

"Bye bye, Vi! Grrr!" he growled at Dash, pretending to flex.

"Grrr!" Dash growled back, mimicking him. They both waved as they got back into the car, and Vi drove off towards the school.

"Unh… it's too early for school," Dash complained.

"Didn't you used to be a morning person?"

"Everyone under eleven is a morning person."

Violet nodded her head to the side, agreeing. "Cross country practice starts today, right?"

Dash groaned from underneath his backpack. In other words, yes.

"You know which late bus to take to get home?"

"Yeah yeah, Route 6, blah blah."

"Hey, at least marching season is over, right?"

"Marching band was invented by sadistic morons."

"At least it's not like the Parkway schools. They go all year round."

"Heh heh heh hehe!" Dash chuckled mischievously. Violet turned the car into student parking and they both got out. As soon as they entered the building, the siblings split up; Violet went to the commons where most upperclassmen hung out, including her best friends Kari and Sarah (and Tony, with his pals), while Dash head towards the cafeteria, where freshman were required to go before school started. Sophomores and any commons-haters were allowed to wander.

Dash dumped his bag and trumpet case at the table that had, by unwritten law, been designated for himself and his friends, then bought some Pop-tarts **(A/N Pop-tarts!)** from the breakfast line. He waited sleepily by the half-broken toaster and, after his Pop-tarts had been toasting for five minutes and finally qualified as warm, went back to his table.

By now, some of his crew had shown up. Alice and Jim, both of which had also made the cross-country team, were sitting on the floor by the table, talking about this, that, and the other. Alice's brown eyes sparked with an energy Dash he could possess so early in the morning, and she showed off her braces with her typically huge smile. Jimmy, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. He wasn't really sitting on the floor, more laying down, his backpack acting as a pillow, with an arm draped over his eyes. Based on the look on the rest of his face, Dash assumed he was wishing Alice would shut up. He could easily sympathize; he hated conversing early in the morning, himself.

"Hey guys."

"Dash, tell her to shut up!"

"What did I do! All I said was-"

"How was the trip, Jim?" Dash asked, referring to a weekend car trip his family had taken to Montana to see relatives.

"-that can be very dangerous for roosters-" Alice continued.

"Long."

"-and we should do a demonstration to-"

"Alice."

"-a lil- hm?"

"I think Jim is tired. Let's be quiet."

"Humph, fine."

"Thank you," Jim mouthed, pushing his brown hair back.

Just then, there was a crashing noise at the cafeteria doors.

"Eungh!" Jim half-screamed, holding out claw-like hands in front of himself. All three students got off the floor to see what had happened. "Unh," Jim groaned, "I'm going back to sleep."

Dash just shook his head. The crash had been caused by two of his other friends. Well, sort of. One of them hadn't been trying to cause trouble.

Mickey was trying to wheel Dodger into the room, and Dodger did not want any help. So what was the result? Mickey was trying to run Dodger all over the place in order to get past the brakes that Dodger kept using, causing them to go careening into stationary objects. And other people.

Mickey Rio was tall, dark, and well, handsome. His dark skin, darker hair, and runner's form (yes, also made cross-country), all dressed up in designer jeans and a graphic tee, made him a very popular freshman. Dodger was quite different. He had silver-blond, unruly hair, fair skin, and wore tattered jeans inherited from a cousin most likely with a plain black tee. Well, gray tee, it was rather worn out. His ice-blue eyes were the only indication that he wasn't an albino.

Furthermore, Dodger wasn't nearly as tall as Mickey. Not only because he was just naturally shorter, but the kid also sat in a black wheelchair. During the summer after seventh grade, Dodger had fallen while rock-climbing with his dad, and was now paralyzed from the hips down. At first, everyone thought it would devastate the shy young runner **(A/N are we yet picking up the connecting link between these characters?)**, but after the initial shock wore off, he quickly came to terms with it, devoting as much free time as possible to exercising his entire body. Dodger didn't explain it to many people, but the way Dash understood it, his friend refused to let his legs atrophy, and his hard work was beginning to pay off in little bits.

As Mickey and Dodger slammed into the table, Dash noticed a boy standing with a crowd at a nearby table, shaking his strawberry-blonde head disdainfully. Luke still despised Mickey, and the feeling was mutual. Dash was still friends with them both, although Mickey had been trying his patience during these first few months of high school.

"There," Mickey said to a wide-eyed Dodger. "You got a ride from the parking lot, completely free of the need to spin those wheels of yours yourself!"

"Maybe I'd like to push myself," Dodger mumbled inaudibly, wheeling over to Jim.

"Sup?"

"Nothin' much. How was the trip."

"Long," Dash and Jim said together. Meanwhile, Alice stood up and went to stand with Mickey in the breakfast line.

"You gonna be all right for practice?"

"I'll be fine."

"How 'bout you Dash? What's up?"

"What's today?"

"Monday."

"My Pop-tarts were cold."

"They're good like that."

"You like everything cold, you're like a freak of nature," Jim said. The bell rang, and the floor-sitters slowly stood up, grabbing their things to head towards class. Mickey and Alice came back from the line.

"Whatever," Dodger said. "See ya's at lunch."

"Right," Dash agreed, trying not to watch Alice and Mickey as they walked off together, arms around each other's torsos. It was just… an unnatural sight, and all three of the boys made grossed-out faces.

"So they just turned into make-out buddies when high school started?" Sarah asked Violet as they, Tony, and Tony's best friend Jason, made their way through the halls. The conversation in the commons had turned to the troubles of siblings, and Violet had not hesitated to explain Dash's early freshman troubles. The silent agreement was that the words shared would not be passed along to anyone, especially lower classmen.

"That's gross," Tony said when Vi nodded.

"All freshmen are gross," Sarah said with a smile.

"It's so good to be able to say that."

"Definitely."

"So how about you, Rydinger?" Violet asked.

"Yeah," Jason said, "how is Big Brother Jason."

"You mean Father Jason."

"I think he means Saint Jason," Sarah added.

"He's coming over for Halloween; his new school has a fall break."

"Aw, poor thing."

"Now don't you two start getting all gross on us."

"How can a married couple be gross?"

"Don't make us make out right here, 'cause we will if we have to."

"Not if you're not careful," Violet said with a slight glare at her boyfriend.

"Whatever, see ya Tony," Sarah said as she and Vi split off from the guys, walking into their classroom. "I do not want to do 'Personal Finance' today. I just don't."

"You're right, it's too early for math stuff. Wanna go to the Bahamas?"

"How about Hawaii? Oo! Or Fiji?"

"Fiji it is. Where is that?"

Meanwhile…

"The FIJI Project has been a complete disaster," a young fellow was saying at a group meeting over at Gecko Insurances. Bob was sitting two seats to the left of the kid, and was currently deciding whether to pity the obviously nervous, sleep-deprived, just-outta-school-overworked guy, or to wish daggers into the kid's chest for being the messenger of the all-too-well known truth. For now, he just watched as the colleague flipped through a mess of papers and tried to make sense of it in a language Bob knew as "gibberish."

"Honestly, I don't think any clients responded positively to it. I dunno what to make of it. Mr. Gloeco?"

Another guy across the table just shook his head and turned to look at Bob. The rest of the team turned to look at their leader. "What do you think, Mr. Parr?" the young man asked.

"Well," Robert said, slowly standing, "I don't think we need to worry about Mark down the hall brown-nosing our collective genius for a while." Everyone grinned a little, especially the young guy. The current intern was indeed quite the brown-noser, and it was always good to be reminded you weren't that pathetic.

"Now, I think we should change our audience. Think about it. How many people over fifty are really interested in this sort of stuff anymore? Jen, you and Gloeco run down to… ah… Rick, downstairs, room 351, and get Macro Advertising on the phone, set up an appointment with Ginger again. Then-"

"For when?"

"Uahm…" Bob said, looking at his planner. "Ah…er… try…mmhph… Thhhhhhhursday… around ten, I don't feel like eating lunch with her ever again. Then look up the RICKET Project, 2003 I think, and give it a good hard look. I think if we give that a good revamping it could work."

The two nodded and left.

"Shequira, special assignment: I want you talk to every living thing in this building, take the FIJI poll, but leave out that stuff about renewing and switching companies and retirement stuff, see what we get as an early response, you know?"

"We'll have to get an actual-"

"Yeah I know, go, girl, go. Charlie, you and I are taking a walk up to Mr. Moscowitz's office."

The remaining guy, the young, stressed guy, looked like Bob had asked him to dive into a pool full of piranhas. "W-w-what-why?"

"He's going to be asking for his money back, let's beat him to it."

"Heh," Charlie whimpered. "Right."

Bob rubbed his forehead. It had been a bad last few weeks at work. And what's more, he hadn't been able to get out very often to help the family out when criminals came to town. His favorite stress relief was super work, and this drag was killing him.

It wasn't just this one project. Ever since Mack retired, Bob's nine-to-five job had become a nightmare of responsibility that he didn't want to deal with anymore, as his all but empty Tylenol bottle showed. Along with his antacid bottle.

But if Robert thought the upper management of a national insurance company was stressful, he had another think coming. A fate far crueler existed, and was being exercised on a family member at that very moment.

"Uh… the first?"

"No Jack-Jack, Lincoln was our _sixteenth_ president."

"I, I know a sixteen!"

"Do you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, she's sixteen and tall and… and has a bike, too!"

"Well, be sure to tell her hello for us. Now, who can tell me who George Washington was?"

Jack-Jack frowned. His teacher didn't _believe_ he knew a sixteen! Why not? He had told the truth! What was wrong with adults anyways? She wasn't even impressed that Megan had a big motorbike. No one had been, even though none of them had ever been on any bike but a tricycle. _He_ had fought crime realler than Power Rangers!

Suddenly, Jack-Jack was distracted by a ten year old video being played. He sat engrossed, without a clue as to what the narration was about, nor the reasoning to the men in the film wearing white wigs with ponytails. The teacher and her assistant started passing around the kids' lunches, and as Timmy Tompkins sat munching on some over peppered corn nearby, Jack-Jack sneezed violently.

Speaking of ponytails…

"AAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

"What? What! WHAT HAPPENED! DORAH, JUST HOLD STILL!"

"MAH HAIR! FIRE IN MY HAIR!"

"Lucy, get me that bucket!"

"AAAAAAAAAA!"

"FIRE DRILL!"

"SIMON, NO, GET BACK HERE! MARTIN, GET OFF THE TABLE! GEORGIA! LUCY, THE BUCKET!"

"I got it- wup!"

Kersplash went the bucket, all over the teacher and Dorah. But not before the smoke alarm caught a whiff of burning hair… setting off the sprinklers.

And thus the class erupted in screams as Paul Revere went a'screaming, "The British are coming!"

Poor Jack-Jack, looked down at his sandwich, most of which had been burned away into nothing but ash on his lap, with the intact pieces now soaked. "Oops."

By now, first hour at the high school had just finished, and Dash was walking down the hall with Dodger and Luke. And Luke's tag-along, Ernie. Who was sort of a violent jerk, but at least he tried hard.

"Oughta just join the swimming team instead," Dodger was saying to Dash as he made serpentines across the hallway with his chair, making the other three snicker at the other kids trying to get out of his way.

"Yeah, there's an idea," Dash replied. "I'll just tell the coach I'd rather go wear a thong-Speedo than run cross-country or track."

"Those shorts you guys wear aren't much better."

"Thank you, Ernie."

"I don't wear a thong-Speedo thing-"

"Don't make me think about it."

"-I wear one of those bodysuit type Speedos."

"Dodger, maybe next year. But running is just what I do. I don't belong in water."

"At least I'm not asking you to join the water polo team. Look, you were complaining about your stupid running team, I'm just offering you alternatives. Don't get on my case."

"Yeah yeah," Dash said.

"Why did so many frosh make it onto the team anyways?"

"Lotta seniors graduated from the team last year. They've got, like… two juniors and five sophomores this year. And one senior. But she's a girl, so you know, doesn't help the guys' team."

"Sure."

"Dash!"

The group stopped, looking around confusedly as the voice continued to call to Dash. Finally, Dash saw Megan with a couple friends headed in their direction.

What the heck does she want? Dash thought, mildly afraid that Meg might embarrass him. Not like if it were Violet. If it were Vi, he was positive she'd embarrass him, on purpose.

"What?"

Megan glared at him for a second, waving as her junior-friends walked on.

"_Yes?_ Geez, you're as bad as Mom."

"Just for you, Flash. Can you tell Vi at lunch that I need you guys to come with me in the car to the shop so I can drop off my bike? After school, I mean?"

"Why don't you tell her at lunch?"

"Hello? Field trip?"

"Oh yeah. Yeah, sure, I'll tell her."

"Thanks," she said smiling. She ruffled his hair and moved around the group, calling, "See ya after school."

"Later," Dash said, walking towards his next class's door.

"What the heck was that?" Ernie asked.

"Hm?"

"A junior. She talked to you," Luke explained, looking relaxed, although his face couldn't hide his interest.

"And touched you!" Ernie feigned shock. "The scandal! How'd you do it? You're even a grade-mover-upper. Upperclassmen should be dumping their backpack trash on your head."

"We know each other from, uh, band."

"But she wasn't carrying an instrument."

"Jazz band. Only meets once a week."

"Oh. Okay."

Not bad, Dash thought to himself. Now I just have to tell Megan that she plays the drums in jazz band.

"But what was she talking about a bike?" Dodger asked as they filed into their world history class.

"Motorcycle."

"You're friends with a junior chick with a motorcycle?" Ernie said. "She let you drive it?"

"Drop it already."

**Okay, Dash. Wheeeeeeeeeee! I want some pie. Geez, long chapter. Not sure I did teenage-boy-talk that well, but dat's okay. MY LEG IS KILLING ME, AND SCHOOL STARTS IN A FREACKING WEEK! I dunno which one of those hurts worse.**

**Review…?**


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